


The Attempted Seduction of One Unseducable Bot

by RainbowRocky



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: "Accidental" Voyeurism, Accidental Voyeurism, Attempted Seduction, Drift is skeptical, Enthusiastic Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Seduction Plans, Shower Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Valve Fingering (Transformers), incorrect use of the Autobot Code, is that because it's all Rodimus's imagination?, more like Exhibitionism, this reads like a cheesy porno, up to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowRocky/pseuds/RainbowRocky
Summary: Ultra Magnus walks in on his captain, catching him in the midst of a private moment. If he joins in, he's just following the rules, right?
Relationships: Rodimus Prime/Ultra Magnus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 84





	The Attempted Seduction of One Unseducable Bot

**Author's Note:**

> We take a break from our usual broadcasting to bring you this message...
> 
> This is just a fun little thing I wrote a couple months ago. I wanted to finally get around to posting it! I was thinking about waiting until I was done with DOMS but I got impatient haha. Enjoy <3

Ultra Magnus tries not to let it get to him. His commanding officer is young, and he understands he was placed aboard this ship by Optimus to help groom him into the fine Prime he’s meant to be. _But can the captain of this ship for once bother to be on time?_ His optics cycle in frustration as he leaves the bridge in Drift’s capable servos. If only the younger mech had answered his comm. Magnus marches his way to the captain’s quarters, although he’s uncertain if said captain will be there. There’s a high possibility Rodimus is fraternizing with the crew at the ship’s infamous bar.

He’s appreciative of the fact that the Prime can socialize and get along well with those he’s meant to lead. Primus knows Magnus himself struggles greatly in that respect. He isn’t the first to admit that since his primacy Optimus isn’t the easiest mech to talk to either. But the Lost Light crew holds Rodimus’s companionship in high regard. Ultra Magnus questions if this bond pushes beyond the bounds of respect, but as of yet there appear to be no issues. Rodimus is still the captain, even if his methods are loose, and everyone treats him as such.

A chime at the door bears no answer. With a frown, Magnus uses his override pin to open it. Occasionally, the speedster has been known to sleep in beyond his allotted shift, so perhaps today is one of those days. The room within is dark, but the lights flicker awake as he steps inside. The berth is empty, it’s mesh strewn about haphazardly. Ultra Magnus takes a deep invent at the sight, his digits twitching with the need to straighten them out in accordance with ship regulations. He ignores this urge in favor of turning to the living area. No sign of the flame-colored mech here either. Magnus makes a move to turn on his heel and head to Swerve’s next, assuming that’s the place he might be.

A sound halts his movements before he can leave. It’s soft, subtle, and Magnus doubts he’s even heard it at first before another one, a little louder, follows. He can’t put his finger on what it is exactly, but his audial sensors alert him to the direction it’s coming from. The washroom.

“Captain?” he calls out, stepping forward. There’s no reply, except for another one of those curious noises. The door swishes open without prompting once he reaches it. He’s nearly surprised, as he hadn’t intended to open it, but the feeling is quickly overshadowed by the shock that snaps through his circuits once it is.

A spray of solvent washes over the flame-colored frame of one Rodimus Prime, of whom Ultra Magnus has caught in a highly compromising position. The captain leans one servo against the wall beneath the nozzle, holding himself steady with legs splayed out wide and a pair of digits circling an open valve. The curious sounds appear to be emanating from his intake as he gasps unintelligible babble with each thrust and scissor.

Magnus’s core temperature skyrockets at the image he's suddenly privy to, and he’s positive his optics are practically bulging out of their sockets. What doesn’t help is the fact that his pedes almost seem glued to the ground, unresponsive to his pings to move away. Instead he soaks in the arching curve of Rodimus’s spinal struts. Each strut works in tandem to rock his hips down on his digits in swift, sensual movements.

“Frag,” Rodimus gasps as he adds another digit to his dripping valve. That’s when Magnus registers he’s walked in on a private moment of the captain’s and should absolutely _not_ be looking in. He turns away with a burning visage and the words to interrupt die in his intake. His voice box struggles to reboot, and he quickly denies a ping on his HUD to turn his cooling fans on. _Oh Primus, what is he to do in such a predicament?_ It says nowhere in the Autobot Code how you address a superior officer in the midst of self pleasuring.

Face plating still aflame, he attempts to anyways. Work still needs to be done, and Rodimus is late for his shift. “Captain!” he shouts, voice laced with static.

“M-Magnus? Is that you?” Rodimus pants, servo slipping on the slick wall in his surprise. He struggles to recapture his balance, but doesn’t take the offending digits from his valve.

“Yes, uh, yes sir,” he stutters, optics turning away, “I… apologize for the... _interruption_ … but your- your shift started ten kliks ago.”

“Oh Magnus,” Rodimus interrupts himself with another keen. The plating along the enforcer’s back shivers at the way his name is spoken, in the midst of his captain’s pleasure. When his fans turn on with a click he doesn’t notice. “Magnus, it’s been so long since I- Because the stupid rules- Not since we left Cybertron-“

“You need not… explain yourself, sir.” He begins to back away, servos up as if in surrender. “I’ll be on my way. Once you’re… _presentable_ , I-“

“No, wait! _Please don’t go_ ~” the younger mech whines, and finally removes his digits. He places his servo on the wall, digits slicked pink with lubrication. It’s quickly washed away under the spray of the nozzle. Ultra Magnus is so captivated that he nearly misses when Rodimus turns to look at him for the first time in this exchange. His optics are imploring, asking an unspoken question. If only Magnus understood. “I need you.” When his legs fall open a little farther, Magnus’s jaw drops.

“I don’t understand. I think it best if I leave-”

“Magnus, please!” he cries in desperation, “I can’t be with anyone on the crew. It’s against regulation.” Rodimus makes his steady approach, as if his second-in-command is some wild mechanimal that will run away with one wrong move.

A captain cannot, ostensibly, sleep with a member of his crew. It would be blasphemous, a clear sign of bias, which would corrupt his impartiality. But another member of command? There’s nothing against the rules when it comes to that, granted they fill out the proper forms if things ever were to become… serious.

It’s as if this is some sort of dream. But it feels real. He runs a full diagnostic, which informs him he isn't any sort of stasis. He’s stunned into silence, optics wide and fans roaring, as Rodimus finally reaches him and strokes his digits, digits that were once _inside of himself_ moments before, along Ultra Magnus’s chassis. The larger mech shivers, and succumbs to the impulse to touch the mech glossy with solvents. It’s a simple touch, he only lays his servo atop Rodimus’s.

“Just this once?” the captain croons hopefully. Magnus gives a nearly imperceptible nod, but you’d think he’d shouted his consent from the ship speakers with the way Rodimus beams at him in response. The smaller mech grabs his servo and leads him to the bench in the center of the washroom. It’s glistening wet, but not uncomfortable as Rodimus nudges him to sit. “I promise I’ll make it feel good,” he purrs into his audial, causing another shiver to ripple through his frame.

Ultra Magnus isn’t really sure what he expected when he agreed to, well, _interface_ with his captain. But as the smaller mech straddles his lap, he’s still overwhelmed with surprise. It starts with gentle touches. Rodimus brushes wet servos along transformation seams and across sweeping spans of metal. His servos seem to be exceptional at reaching the places Magnus himself never could. It has him coming undone in a few moments, like energon jelly in his captain’s servos.

“Can I kiss you?” sends another shock through his systems, pulling him out of his reverie. While this entire exchange has been entirely unprecedented, it hadn’t even crossed his mind that he and his captain would kiss. He looks deeply into Rodimus’s sparkling Matrix blue optics, spark cycling faster at the sight. Lost in their depths for a moment, he almost forgets a question was asked.

“I, uh, yes, I suppose,” he sputters, and in his embarrassment misses the affectionate smile that flickers across Rodimus’s faceplate. It’s a beat before the younger mech dims his optics and inclines his helm to do so. His lip plates search for Magnus’s, and the larger mech makes it easier on him to lean down and meet them. Charge snaps between them on contact and it sends tendrils of electricity coursing through him. He lets out a soft gasp, and Rodimus eagerly takes advantage of his open intake to sweep his glossa inside.

He’s kept his servos relatively still at his sides throughout this altercation, but now he feels compelled to actually _touch_ Rodimus. His servos come up to rest on the speedster’s back. He hums into Magnus’s intake in appreciation, spoiler twitching. The convoy’s grip tightens as the speedster delicately grinds into him at the hips.

It’s not lost on him that Rodimus’s valve cover has been open since the beginning of this exchange. He can feel the heat of it warming his thighs, slicking them with lubricant. Ultra Magnus is aware that his own interface panels are warming online, and his spike is soon fighting for release to meet the valve ripe before it. He transforms the panel away with a hiss, and the spike pressurizes between them. Rodimus pulls back from the kiss when he hears it, moaning as it rubs between his thighs. The sound is sweet, and knowing he’s the cause makes Magnus’s spark swell.

“Oh,” the speedster vents, taking it in with hungry optics. He takes a servo and grazes it against the head, just enough to entangle his digits in the charge lacing from it. Magnus groans, canting his hips up into the touch. This spurs Rodimus to take a hold of him and slide his servo along his length. The pressure and heat of it is delectable, and for the first time today he wonders what it will actually feel like when he’s sinking into his captain’s valve.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it before. Admittedly his captain has even been on his mind when he self completes. He’s dreamed of having the small servos wrapped around his spike, of taking his mouth, of his valve quaking as he drills into him. Even of Rodimus’s spike, taking him. _Claiming him_ . But it was only ever that: a dream. And one he kept in the confines of his processor. He’d never planned to pursue the captain, and never would have thought the captain would pursue _him_. 

“Rodimus!” the second-in-command gasps as an overload unexpectedly takes him. Transfluid spills from the tip of his spike, spattering across both their abdominal plating. His captain seems enraptured, optics dancing across his frame as he watches the mech come undone. His servo doesn’t cease its ministrations, coaxing his spike through its overload.

“I hope you saved some for me,” he teases, and the larger mech flushes bright pink. A servo presses into his chassis and guides him to lay down across the bench. “I wanna ride you,” is all Rodimus gives in lieu of explanation, and has Magnus swallowing in anticipation. He shimmies up to straddle Magnus’s hips, lining the tip of his spike with his valve. The enforcer latches onto Rodimus like a lifeline by his waist, watching him with wide optics.

“Oh fuck!” his captain cries out as he presses his hips down, enveloping the spike with his walls, “Fuck Magnus, you’re so big…” It sounds more like a compliment than a complaint as the speedster fully seats himself on his second-in-command’s spike. This would be the appropriate time to comment on how tight the smaller mech is in turn, right? That’s what Magnus understands from the occasional holoporn vid he allows himself.

“I-“ he starts, but the words die in his intake as Rodimus sets forth in a steady rock of his hips. All that comes out is a garble of static. He eagerly thrusts up to meet his captain in turn. Magnus had always pictured Rodimus to be an expressive lover, and his expectations are well met when each strike to his inner nodes has the captain singing.

Rodimus plants his servos on Magnus’s chestplating and he uses the leverage to come even harder down on the spike at his disposal. His hips gyrate with the motions, optics never leaving Magnus’s as he does so. That’s when the enforcer feels compelled to incline his helm and take Rodimus’s lips with his own. A servo comes to rest behind his helm and he pushes his captain into a bruising kiss. The moan Rodimus gives him is thick and heavy, and his valve quivers around Magnus’s spike.

It doesn’t take long for him to come undone at this rate. Primus knows how long Rodimus was pleasuring himself before Magnus arrived, and his valve can only take so much more before it acquiesces it’s overload. Rodimus comes with a wail of his second-in-command’s designation. His valve lets out a rush of lubricant, and it drips down his thighs in a slick pink mess. His optics spark with charge before they offline and Rodimus buries his helm into Magnus’s chestplating as he rides out his high.

It takes a few more heated thrusts before Magnus can follow, releasing his transmission fluid deep inside his captain. Rodimus moans as if he can feel it filling his valve, before it quickly joins the mess of lubricant. The two lay there from an indeterminate amount of time as they wait for the charge to dissipate. The heat from their taxed frames comes off of them in waves, their roaring fans working tirelessly to cool them down.

“Wow,” Rodimus sighs after a while. He looks up at his second and cocks a debauched grin. “Thanks for that, Mags.”

“Of course, sir.”

.｡..｡..｡. .｡.

“And he’s gonna frag you? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Rodimus assures, waving away his skeptical expression. He’d just explained his plan to seduce his second-in-command in lurid detail, and is admittedly feeling hot under the hood for it. Drift doesn’t seem convinced, but the speedster could care less. “With my smokin’ bod, who can resist me?”

His third snorts and shakes his helm before taking another measured sip of his energon cube, “Your unyielding confidence never ceases to astound me.”

Rodimus cocks him a grin and motions Swerve over to deliver them another round. “So you’ll cover our shifts when we get down and busy? I’m not sure how long we’ll be together, so it could take a while. Here’s to hoping, right?”

Drift rolls his optics. “ _If_ you get together,” he adds sagely. After an imploring look from his amica, he hesitantly agrees, “But yes, I’ll take your shifts. You’ll owe me, though.”

“I knew you were my guy!” Rodimus claps him sharply on the back, making a splash of energon spill into his lap. Drift frowns.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Up to interpretation if Rodimus was successful or not hehehe


End file.
